


The Unexpected Evening

by meditationsinemergencies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Breasts, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Christmas Song, F/M, Oral Sex, Rare Pair, Sex Positive, Super rare pair, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27751156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationsinemergencies/pseuds/meditationsinemergencies
Summary: When James' Christmas gift to Albus goes awry, he finds himself stuck in 1955 for twelve hours. Cold in just his underclothes, he stumbles into a greenhouse where he meets a young Pomona Sprout.
Relationships: James Sirius Potter/Pomona Sprout
Comments: 20
Kudos: 27
Collections: The Marauders Advent 2020





	The Unexpected Evening

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for The Marauders Advent 2020.
> 
> Prompt: James Sirius Potter & "Baby, It's Cold Outside"
> 
> I enjoyed writing this so so so so much, and I felt that getting the chance to write it was such a gift.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and commenting and kudosing. It's so very appreciated.
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr - meditationswrites

James Potter had been working for months on his brother's Christmas present.  _ More like my Christmas present _ , he thought to himself as he jotted down a few more notes concerning time-travel portkeys. His little brother would be inevitably pissed off for months to come after, but sending Albus back to the 1950s for twelve hours was well worth it.

  
  
  


For the holidays, their mum insisted everyone be under the same roof for Christmas Eve and Christmas day, at least until they had families and children of their own. So, he sat at his desk in his childhood room; everything felt much too small for him at the desk, his long legs stretched out, his broad shoulders hunched over him. James surpassed his dad's height at 16, and it was evident that while he looked like his father, his height came from his mum's side of the family. It was nearing six in the evening, and soon enough he'd have to get dressed and go downstairs so they could all Floo to the Burrow for dinner. 

  
  
  


James ran his fingers against the item in question—it was a CD case with the CD inside. The CD itself was just a single from a Muggle holiday song entitled "Baby, It's Cold Outside." He thought the name was absurd which was why he'd chosen it out of all the others. 

  
  
  


Several weeks prior, he had been over at the Burrow, helping his grandmum with her Christmas decorations. While up in the attic, he found a box full of CDs, clearly something his grandpop had acquired. He hauled it downstairs to ask his grandparents about it. Molly insisted he take the box, as to slowly get rid of all the random junk Arthur had collected out of the house. James was certain his grandpop would not allow this to happen, but, to his surprise, the older man shrugged and claimed he was more into vinyl nowadays anyways, and that CDs just simply didn't have the same nostalgic value or rich sound as vinyl. James wasn't sure about the nostalgia, but he had listened to records with Arthur often and found his second statement to be quite true.

  
  
  


He cast a charm on the item to check its diagnostics, and he couldn't think of anything else it needed. It appeared perfect. James smiled to himself, now more excited to show Uncle George and Ron what he's created. After finishing his last year at Hogwarts, James took an internship at the joke shop. He had a certain aptitude for charm work, and what started as a year's internships had turned into a career path, as two years later he was still working there. He was certain they’d knock down the idea of anything involving time-travel, but he had to give it a go, especially if he could work on the time-release within it, so far the shortest time he could manage was twelve hours. If he could get it down to two hours, he thought it would be more sellable. People would happily waste two hours. 

  
  
  


Casting a charm he checked the time. The clock illuminating from his wand read 5:42 pm. He figured he had at least ten minutes before he needed to get dressed. 

  
  
  


He set down his wand on his desk and picked up the CD case. He opened it, looked at the disc inside, and ran a finger gingerly across it with a proud sly smirk: That was the key—touching the case didn't do anything. Albus would be confused by the gift, and so he'd open it the case, and, naturally, he would pull the disc out, curiously taking apart his gift to decipher its purpose. The movement of the disc activated the time-travel component in the charm work, making it a portkey of sorts, and Albus would then be transported to the Hogwarts grounds for twelve hours in the year 1955. James thought Hogwarts was a harmless place to send his brother, and, seeing as how it was Christmas, not many people would be around. His brother would just have to wander around the grounds aimlessly for twelve hours trying to figure out what to do; this would drive the younger man mad, and that in itself was wildly delightful for James. 

  
  
  


But, as it were, it was not Albus who activated the gift. James, suddenly and without warning, sneezed—once, twice...a third time, shaking the open case in his hands and jarring the disc just enough to move it, a slight enough movement to activate the portkey charm. 

  
  
  


James felt a quick and deep tug behind his navel and then found himself standing barefoot in his boxers and undershirt on Hogwarts' grounds. Looking down, he saw his feet were sunk into the snow. He took a moment to shiver, curse under his breath, and gather his thoughts. His first real thought was,  _ Oh, shit. Okay. Okay. It’s 1955. It’s Christmas Eve. I’m at Hogwarts. No wand. Just find somewhere to hang out for the next twelve hours, James _ . He looked down at his bare feet in the snow and then to his bare legs. “Right, somewhere inside where it’s warm. Damn. Stupid sneeze.” 

  
  
  


He looked around and saw the greenhouses in the distance, as quickly as he could, he ran over to them. As he flung open the door to the first one he got to, he was relieved by its slight warmth. It wasn’t warm, but it was a lot warmer than it had been outside, and his feet weren’t in snow, so that was a plus. He figured, if anything, he could find something to wrap around himself. 

  
  
  


“Great, Merlin! Are you real?” a loud and deep, but ultimately quite feminine, voice called out from the back of the greenhouse.

  
  
  


“Erm. Yes.” James replied timidly. 

  
  
  


“Why are you half-naked? Did Poppy send you?” The young woman began to walk uncertainly towards him, her wand in one hand, her other hand wrapped around a large plant, it’s bulbs still covered with a lot of dirt, dirt that was falling onto her skirt and onto the ground. 

  
  
  


“It’s a long story, and no? Why?” He squinted a bit, to try and see her more clearly, but it was dark in the greenhouse and he couldn’t make out her face.

  
  
  


He heard her whisper  _ Lumos _ , and then he could see. Instantly he was taken aback by her, she was quite beautiful and wildly messy. Her hair was a honey colour, and she had mass amounts of large ringlets coming out from every which way, a dark blue headband pushing back the ringlets. He noticed that she had dirt on her face—smudged across her forehead and streaked on her right cheek, and, with a closer look, he saw bits of leaves in the ends of her hair which rested against her shoulders. She laughed, one front tooth resting endearingly in front of the other. 

  
  
  


“Poppy said my tea predicted I’d get a strapping half-naked bloke for Christmas, and well…” she gestured towards him with the hand that was still holding the plant, bits of dirt flung off of it and onto the ground, specs dusted James’ foot. 

  
  
  


He cocked an eyebrow, “Well?”

  
  
  


“You’re half-naked, and a bloke, and it’s almost Christmas...you’re also quite strapping. So, again, are you real? Is this some joke? If for nothing else, I’m not sure why anyone would be in a greenhouse in their undergarments in the Winter in Scotland. Something is not adding up.” She took her hands and attempted to place them on her hips, but she then seemed to remember the plant she was holding, “Oh, bollocks.”

  
  
  


Glancing up at him, she said, “Hold on. I have to do something with this baby. Don’t...go...anywhere...yet.” 

  
  
  


James chuckled and shrugged, “Where would I go? As you pointed out, I’m half-naked in the dead of winter with no wand.” 

  
  
  


“No wand? What in the world? Hold on.” He watched as she quickly turned and hurriedly walked back to where she had previously been working. He listened to things clanking together, mumbled swears, and a few sighs. After a few minutes, she came back, wiping her hands on her skirt. 

  
  
  


He took a moment to survey her outfit; he was definitely in 1955. She wore a high-waisted grey skirt, that looked to be a thick material, perhaps wool, but James wasn’t too knowledgeable in fabrics; tucked into it was a turtleneck, the colour matching the headband in her hair. Looking down at her feet, he was a bit thrown off by the dragon-hide boots she wore, it was incongruous to her outfit, but he understood that she must be a student, not a professor, she certainly wasn’t old enough, maybe a seventh-year student, but what would a seventh year be doing in the greenhouse at this hour during the Christmas holidays.

  
  
  


“What exactly are you doing out here on Christmas Eve?” he asked

  
  
  


“I’m sorry, but I think you have more explaining to do than I do, but you also might lose a toe or two if we don’t go into the castle soon."

  
  
  


He cocked his head to the side, “You just trust me? Trust me enough to take me into the castle? I could be…” 

  
  
  


The woman made a face as if she were considering this, “Yeah. I suppose so, but I know bad wizards, and I don’t think you’re one. Plus, what harm could you possibly pose? You’re wandless. You don’t even have shoes on." 

  
  
  


James nodded, “Yes, and it’s chilly outside. The snow and all.” 

  
  
  


She scowled, pausing for a moment, and bending down to mess with something, before saying, “Baby, it’s cold outside.” 

  
  
  


He looked at her sharply, “Baby?”

  
  
  


Shaking her head, her curls moving about her face she said with a laugh, “I wasn’t talking to you.” 

  
  
  


She gestured to a pot with a plant in it before picking it up. It was moving irritably at the blanket wrapped tightly around it. “I was talking to the plant. It doesn’t like the cold, but it sure doesn’t like the blanket either. Anyway, I’ve got to bring it inside. That’s what I was out here for. I’m the understudy for Professor Beery. I started right after I graduated from Hogwarts. So, there, that’s why I’m down here. The plants. Always taking care of these babies.” She smiled at him, and her smile was so genuine, so sincere, that his heart did a small flip. 

  
  
  


“I want to tell you who I am before we go to the castle. I think it's important. But, say lend me a cloak? If that's okay. I’m so cold.”

  
  
  


She conjured a spare cloak lying in a cupboard, and he was so relieved to put it on and find she'd cast a warming charm on it, the warmth moving through his body. 

  
  
  


It dawned on James then, as he looked at her standing there, a potted plant resting against her hip, who this probably was, however, he couldn’t be certain as his only herbology professor had been Neville Longbottom. 

  
  
  


He took a deep breath and said, "I'm from…" pausing before he continued, "2024." Before she could interrupt he quickly said, " I made this stupid portkey time-travel contraption as a prank on my little brother, and I mucked up and activated the charm thus sending myself here. To you.”

  
  
  


“The future? You are from the future?” Her voice seemed amused but not shocked or disbelieving. 

  
  
  


“Yes. I’ll be here for the next twelve or so hours, probably closer to eleven now. I’m Ja—"

  
  
  


She cut him off, “No. Don’t tell me your name. Time-travel is too weird and too risky. Who knows what telling me your name could do, you know? Anyway. That’s a pity. I was hoping you were my Christmas present.” She shrugged with a little half-smile of disappointment. James was disbelieving that she...that she was just accepting of what he’d said.

  
  
  


“Well, maybe I am.” 

  
  
  


“Come again?” she inquired. 

  
  
  


“You know how time-travel is. We’ve already experienced this once, yes? I think. I’m not sure. Time-travel is so confusing, probably wasn’t the best idea for me to play with it. My Godmother tried to explain why the theory of time travel is so temperamental and ever-changing, but you know...I don’t know. So, yeah, maybe I am your Christmas present. I'm joking. Maybe. Anyway, you really just...trust me?”

  
  
  


She nodded, “I do.” 

  
  
  


He wanted to say, based on who he thought she was, “How very Hufflepuff of you…” but considering the circumstances, he settled for, “You are definitely not a Slytherin then.” He laughed at the end of his statement, trying to illustrate the light-hearted nature of his statement.

  
  
  


Shaking her head, she said, “No. Not at all. Hufflepuff. However, based on everything you’ve told me I’m going to guess you’re a Gryffindor.” 

  
  
  


He beamed, “Yup. 100%” 

  
  
  


“I really can’t stay out here much longer; let’s go up to the castle. I’ll sneak you into my quarters and you can wait it out until your time runs out. Sound alright?” 

  
  
  


They stood in the threshold of the greenhouse; the snow was coming down much harder now. She grabbed onto his arm, her body heat flooding through him. "Merlin, it is really coming down, isn't it? It wasn't anything like this earlier. It's up to the knees out there! We better be quick. Sound alright?" 

  
  
  


He thought it sounded just fine. He wanted to stop and look around as they moved hurriedly across the grounds and through the hallways of Hogwarts; he wanted to see how it had changed and how it was different, but he knew it was too big of a risk to do so. He wanted her to show him around, and, if he were being completely honest, he wanted to feel her warm body against him more.

  
  
  


Once in the castle, they made their way down towards the kitchens, she pressed her finger to her lips and leaned into him and whispered, "Quiet. Who knows what the neighbours might think or...do if they hear you." 

  
  
  


He furrowed his brow, "Neighbors?"

  
  
  


She gestured towards the kitchens and he caught a faint whiff of her scent. She smelled of … plants. He didn't know which type, she just smelled fresh and clean and like the outdoors with a touch of something floral. It was earthy and sweet all at once, and he enjoyed it immensely.

  
  
  


She nodded, "The house-elves. They're gossipy." 

  
  
  


Her living quarters were between the kitchen and the Hufflepuff common room. They were small rooms but cosy. He admired them as they walked in, slinking out of the cloak she'd lent him and lay it across a chair. 

  
  
  


Taking off her cloak, she walked over to a small bar cart. "Would you like a drink? Are you old enough to drink?" A teasing smile played on her lips. 

  
  
  


"Yesssss," he said assuringly. "In fact, I'm a bit older than you."

  
  
  


"In this situation," she winked, and his heart flipped again. She was younger than him right now, yes, but she felt so much older, so much more mature and confident.

  
  
  


With her head she gestured towards a Muggle record player, "You know how to work one of those?"

  
  
  


He nodded, "I do, actually."

  
  
  


Smiling at him, said, "Good! I'll make the drinks. Put some records on while I pour." 

  
  
  


He perused her collection and settled on a jazz record. 

  
  
  


"You know," she said, walking towards him and handing him a tumbler, "What if I hadn't been in there? What was your plan?"

  
  
  


"I hadn't gotten that far, honestly. I wasn't planning on time-travelling." 

  
  
  


She took a sip from the drink and peered at him over the tumbler. "You could have been out there in the cold, alone, for twelve hours. You could have caught pneumonia and died." 

  
  
  


He chuckled, "Sheesh. That would have been quite a misfortune. All because of a dumb prank." He took the first sip of his drink and exclaimed, "Merlin! What's in this drink?"

  
  
  


"What do you mean?" she asked, one eyebrow raised in question.

  
  
  


"It's bloody fantastic! Maybe the best drink I've ever had." He took another long sip. 

  
  
  


He began to walk around. It was all brick and earth tones, random pops of yellow. Her walls were lined with books and plants and what appeared to be journals, off from the living area was a bedroom that he could barely see into, and what he imagined also led to the bathroom. He kept thinking how utterly bizarre this all was, that he was in 1955 and was having a drink with an eighteen-year-old Pomona Sprout. 

  
  
  


Behind him, she sat down on a dark brown sofa. The fabric looked so soft, he couldn't wait to sit down and feel the fabric against his legs. Then, suddenly, the thought of him in his boxers made him very self-conscious.

  
  
  


"I'm sorry I'm dressed like this, do you have anything I could put on? Or, you could transfigure what I've got on into something else?" He looked over at her on the sofa.

  
  
  


She shrugged, "I'm not particularly bothered by your attire. However, if you're uncomfortable

…"

  
  
  


"No. No..I just don't want to make you uncomfortable."

  
  
  


She laughed, "No. I'm not even remotely uncomfortable, in fact, I like your cute little pants. They've got candy canes and ribbons on them. Hmmm. You  _ are _ a Christmas present." She winked at him then, and he felt the heat rise into his cheeks.  _ Gods _ , he thought,  _ she is wickedly cheeky. _

  
  
  


She drained her drink and began to dig an ice cube out with her fingers, popping one into her mouth and chewing on it. “So…” she said as she crunched, and he noticed that she still had dirt on her face, and he wondered if she always had dirt on her face and if she just didn’t mind it. “What do you think is happening in 2024 right now? Does anyone know you’re gone?”

  
  
  


James laughed, “Oh, yes. People know I am gone. In about an hour my mum will start to worry, my dad will be pacing the floors.” James then did an impression of his father, rubbing his forehead and walking the same few feet back and forth back and forth, muttering to himself.

  
  
  


“My sister, she’s the most logical of the bunch, she’ll be suspicious, and I’m sure suspect I was up to something, and my brother, Merlin, my brother, he’ll be there at the door to the house, waiting on me to come around after my latest jaunt or something. After all, it is Christmas Eve, but they’ll all be fine. They’ll end up just heading to my grandparents’ house and by the time they’ve all woken up tomorrow, I’ll be back. There’s bound to be all sorts of talk tomorrow, especially about how disappointed they are and how I am an adult and should behave like one.” He shrugs at this, unconcernedly. 

  
  
  


“And what will you tell them happened?” she asked through another ice cube.

  
  
  


“Exactly what did,” he takes a sip of his drink and shuts his eyes in enjoyment.

  
  
  


“So you’ll tell them you met someone and possibly meddled with the outcome of the future?” 

  
  
  


“Have I now? Meddled with the future?”

  
  
  


“Hmmm. Probably not. I don’t think you can do too much harm this far back in time and in only twelve hours, plus it’s only me you’ll see. What harm could come of this?”

  
  
  


“Mind if I sit?” he asked

  
  
  


She shook her head and moved over a bit so he could join her on the couch. 

  
  
  


“So…” she said.

  
  
  


He replies similarly, “So…”

  
  
  


“What are we to do for the next…” she checked the clock on the wall, “ten hours? I mean, you can’t tell me anything about the future out of risk of changing said future. We can’t leave this room because then we risk someone seeing you. Not to mention, we both should be at some type of Christmas Eve party and yet… I’m here working and you ended up sixty-nine years in the past.” She had turned towards him on the couch as she spoke, her knees brought up onto the couch, her feet tucked beneath her. An elbow was propped up on the back of the sofa, and her hand was resting in her hair.

  
  
  


James glanced at her, his drink rested against his chest. “I suppose we could just celebrate Christmas Eve...together. Plus, this evening has been so very nice so far.”

  
  
  


“You’ve enjoyed yourself, have you?” she leaned in and clinked her empty glass against his, “Hmmmm. Maybe just a half a drink more. I mean, it's Christmas, right?”

  
  
  


“Absolutely. Happy Christmas Eve. Let’s enjoy ourselves. I mean, I don’t think I’ll ever find myself in this situation again, and I think it’s a pretty good one.” 

  
  
  


“Okay, future boy, what’s your situation?” She sipped her freshly made drink and smirked.

  
  
  


“Erm. I’m half-naked with a stunningly gorgeous Hufflepuff from the 1950s. It’s almost every young man’s fantasy.”

  
  
  


She barked a laugh, “Being with a Hufflepuff is every man’s fantasy?” 

  
  
  


James nodded vigorously, “Of course. Hufflepuffs are the best.”

  
  
  


“Has that drink gone to your head that fast? You are a Gryffindor, remember? Don’t you only see...Gryffindor?” 

  
  
  


He laughed this time and shook his head, “No. In my time, while we have our houses, we make a point to not be so divisive. And, in all honesty, every girl I’ve ever loved has been a Hufflepuff.”

  
  
  


“Have you been in love with many?” she teased him.

  
  
  


“In my second year, I was absolutely in love with a Hufflepuff girl named Emily. She was older than me, but just so funny and wonderful and…weird. I adored her up until she graduated. In my fifth year, it was a Hufflepuff named Andrea. She was smart and compassionate and we were really good friends, and I swore she liked me, but she had a girlfriend, so what was I to do? Finally, in my sixth year, I began dating a Hufflepuff, her name was Amanda. Gods. She was lovely, but guess what?”

  
  
  


The witch sat down next to him again, “What?” 

  
  
  


“She ended up leaving me for a Slytherin a year after we graduated. A Slytherin.” He took another sip of his drink.

  
  
  


“I thought you weren’t divisive in your time,” she gave him a look.

  
  
  


He sighs, “Just a little. Alright? Just this one Slytherin. Plus, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins aren’t that compatible.”

  
  
  


She quirked an eyebrow, “No. We are.”

  
  
  


“Really?” he asked unbelievingly.

  
  
  


“Quite.” 

  
  
  


“Well, anyway, doesn’t matter. Three beautiful girls. All Hufflepuff. All stole a piece of my garnet and gold heart. I’m fated to only love Hufflepuffs, I think. So, yes, you are my type. Hufflepuff. Funny. Smart. A bit weird.”

  
  
  


“Weird?”

  
  
  


“You have plant pieces in your hair,” he reached forward and tugged a small stick out from a curl.

  
  
  


She shrugged, “Yeah. That happens a lot.” 

  
  
  


“Anyway, enough about my sad love life. What are we going to do to celebrate Christmas Eve?”

  
  
  


“Well, we’re already having a drink and listening to jazz, nice record choice, by the way. We could play chess, read some books, drink some more, or shag each other until you have to go back.”

  
  
  


James felt his face flush at the last thing she listed, turning his head to look at her full on. “Shag each other?”

  
  
  


She tilted her head back and laughed, “I mean, talk about no-strings-attached.”

  
  
  


“Are you serious?” he inquired.

  
  
  


Leaning into him, her arm pressed against his, he felt the warmth of her body again and his belly flipped, “Am I not part of some fantasy of yours, anyhow?” 

  
  
  


James swallowed and looked her over. Merlin, she was. This close to her, he could really see the shape of her body, the tightened fabric of her turtleneck from the heavy swell of her breasts, her waist’s curve towards her large hips—an hourglass shape. Just the thought of her figure made his cock jump in excitement. All too aware of his thin boxers, he tried to control himself. James couldn’t think of a better way to describe her other than thick. 

  
  
  


She cocked her head to the side, waiting for a reply.

  
  
  


He nodded sheepishly, “Yes. Gods, yes. You are.” 

  
  
  


Smiling softly at him, she took a slow sip from her drink. He inwardly groaned seeing her lips press against the glass. “Your lips…”

  
  
  


“What about them?” she asked.

  
  
  


“They look...your lips look delicious.” This was true in more than one way, he knew the drink, the delicious concoction she’d made, was on her lips, her lips were also the colour of red plum, and he loved plums. He wanted nothing more than to lean in and taste her, to suck her bottom lip into his mouth. To hear her deep moans. To watch her undress in front of him. 

  
  
  


“You should taste them, then,” she said in a seductive whisper.

  
  
  


“Do you mind if I move in closer?” he asked, leaning his body into hers, their legs pressed together, their shoulders almost touching.

  
  
  


She shook her head "no," and with that James leaned in and kissed her. Only for a second, he considered that she was someone from the past, someone he could never actually have, and he promptly told himself to stuff it and to enjoy the moment, to enjoy her and what the night had to offer him. 

  
  
  


Her lips were cool and tasted of ginger and sugar; he found himself licking her lips, tasting them. She opened her mouth for him, and he slid his tongue inside, running it against hers. He groaned with pleasure into her mouth. Somehow she was utterly in control of him and also in his control. She let her lips part for him, her mouth opening for his tongue, her body relaxed as he rested his hands upon her waist, but somehow he felt as if he was just putty in her hands—that she could ask absurd things of him and he would happily oblige. He sucked on her bottom lip and listened as she moaned when his teeth grazed against the soft skin. His mouth moved to her cheek and then her neck, pulling down the fabric of her turtle neck to kiss the skin beneath it. 

  
  
  


She pulled away from him and he was fearful he’d gone too far, that this was the end of the evening. Instead, she asked, “Would you like me to remove it?” 

  
  
  


Dumbstruck, like a lovesick puppy, he nodded.  _ Yes _ , he thought,  _ putty _ . 

  
  
  


She stood up in front of him and untucked her top from her skirt before pulling it over her head. Beneath was a soft pink bra, and he almost cried with excitement when he saw the tops of her creamy full-breasts spilling over the cups. When she reached around and unclasped the bra, letting it drop to the floor, and he finally saw her breasts, he did cry out a little. James did love breasts, he also loved arses and thighs, but he was desperate to press his face against her chest, to let his lips run her skin. He looked up at her, her skirt with the belt still resting slightly above the bottom of her ribcage, the upper part of her body bare. 

She leaned towards him as she sat back down, her arms pressed her tits together, and he realised then that he was painfully hard. He wanted to run his cock against them, something he’d only ever fantasized about. But, now? Now, he wanted to slide bundled between her cleavage, to press the head of his cock against her soft warm skin. 

  
  
  


She must have read something on his face because she asked, “What are you thinking? Be honest. There’s no sense in being shy, love. We only have this time.”

  
  
  


“Oh, Merlin. I just…” he leaned in to kiss her and she pulled back, “Tell me first," she demanded.

  
  
  


He groaned a bit in uncertainly and nervousness. “I want to fuck your tits, Merlin. Gods. They’re exquisite. You’re...just—” 

  
  
  


She cut him off by kissing him, grabbing his hand and pressing it against one of her breasts. He palmed it gently and then found her nipple, tweaking it between his fingers. Her mouth again was open and wanting, and their tongues grazed against one another. James felt her hand upon his clothed cock, and he bucked his hips instinctively at her touch.

  
  
  


It was another moment of feeling completely in control and out of control. She let her head roll to one side, and he feasted on her neck, kissing her skin, sucking on it, biting it tenderly—listening and soaking in every moan and gasp she made. She tugged on his cock beneath his boxers and whispered, “Would you like to fuck my tits?”

  
  
  


He nodded against her neck and felt her hand move inside of his boxers. Her hand was warm and in some places very soft while in others rough, he assumed from her work. She roughly stroked his thick erection a few times before she pulled away from him and leaned back. Reaching over, she flicked her want and accioed a small jar. He straddled her, as she tossed it up to him. Feeling the silky warmth of the oil beneath his fingers, he tilted the jar just so and drizzled it on her breasts. Leaning forward he massaged her chest, tweaking and twisting on her nipples. He bent down and took them one by one into his mouth sucking longingly on each one before straddling her chest. 

  
  
  


With her hands, she pushed her breasts together. “Fuck them,” she commanded, and he did. 

  
  
  


He pressed the tip of his cock at the base of her cleavage and pressed against her skin, letting his cock slide between her breasts. With a thrust, he pumped his hips until he was certain he would come if he didn't stop. He slid off of her and began to kiss her body; he licked her nipples, he sucked on the soft skin beneath her breasts, and he kissed down to the belt of her skirt and then, with both his hands, pushed up her skirt until it bunched at her waist. His fingers traced the edges of her dark green knickers, and she raised up her hips, indicating for him to slide them down. Once her knickers were off, he turned his attention back towards what had been beneath her skirt. There was a curly thick patch of hair between her thighs, and its dark colour pressed against the creaminess of her skin delicately. "May I taste you?"

  
  
  


She breathed out the word, "Yessss" and James bent between her thighs. He didn't even touch her centre for a while; he kissed her thighs, pressing his face against them, enjoying the softness of her skin. Finally, he worked his way to her sex, letting his lips graze gently against her clit and labia. He flicked her clit with his tongue teasingly before running it down her centre, tasting her slick arousal. One of his hands rested on her outer thigh as he flattened his tongue, pressing it against her more attentively. He let his thumb make slow, slight circles on her hardened nub, while he slid his tongue inside her, letting it linger there with each thrust. 

  
  
  


James loved the feel of a woman's cunt against his tongue; he loved to feel his face wet as it pressed against her, his tongue pressed inside her. He loved how when a woman came she trembled against his cheek, and his lips and chin dripped with her orgasm. She came hard for him, and he felt her thighs tighten around him, her fingers tugging at his hair. She groaned and asked him to not stop, to give her more. Her hips bucked upwards as he went to slip his fingers inside her, and his thumb accidentally and barely grazed against her arse, as it did he heard her take in a sharp breath, and then she said, "Please. Yes. There"

  
  
  


He tentatively brought his thumb, slick from her orgasm, down to her arse, grazing the hole gently. She keened sweetly beneath him and slipped two fingers inside her centre as he massaged her with his thumb. Lifting, his head, he watched her as he touched her; she squirmed and squeezed her breasts, and he was suddenly certain they'd be up to this for hours, a fact he was elated by. 

With his hand, he brought her to orgasm again. After a few moments, she sat up and pushed him into a sitting position, and she straddled him. His cock was out of his boxers from earlier, the head leaky with his own arousal. Reaching back for her wand, she cast a contraceptive spell before kissing him again. "Is this a good way to celebrate?" she asked her words a whisper against his lips. 

  
  
  


"So grand."

  
  
  


He felt her smile against his cheek, as she then asked, "Shall we continue?"

  
  
  


He nodded and with another flick of her wand, their clothes had vanished. The pads of his fingers pressed into her soft hips, and he pulled back a bit to look at her. She was so thick and full from the waist down, and he ran his hand up the curve of her waist and to the sides of her tits—he thought of his cock between them and felt his body want to explode, but he controlled himself. 

  
  
  


With his hands against her, he pulled her to him and he felt her cunt against his erection, and slowly he felt himself inside her. She was so warm and wanting, and he had to shut his eyes and think momentarily of something else, as to not come. Slowly she began to ride him, her hips meeting with his languidly, but then she picked up her tempo. Her hands pressed against the wall behind her and, with his eyes shut, he felt the warmth of her breasts gently tapping against his face. James felt like he was receiving the best Christmas gift of his life, better than all the things he'd ever gotten combined. 

  
  
  


Into her chest, he muttered, "I can't not come soon," as he moved his mouth to one of her nipples.

  
  
  


"That's okay. Come for me." He groaned at her words. "But I don't want to stop doing this with you," he pleaded. 

  
  
  


"We don't have to," she said breathlessly. 

  
  
  


"There's so much more we can do before six in the morning. So much." 

  
  
  


She slowed a little, and pressed his chin up to look at her. "I'm never going to see you again. I want to do it all with you. I want to explore as much as we can."

  
  
  


He whimpered every time she thrust against him, slowly but with purpose, and finally, with his face buried between her breasts, with her arse slapping against his thighs, he came with a crash. 

  
  
  


For a long time after he'd come, he held her—her still straddling him, his arms wrapped around her waist, a cheek pressed to her chest, their sticky skin against each others. 

  
  
  


She had an elf bring them dinner, without allowing the elf to see him, and they ate quickly before finding themselves in her bed, coming together, again and again, refusing to sleep, waiting for morning to approach. 

  
  
  


Sitting on her bed, dressed again in his boxers and shirt, while she sat wrapped in a soft robe, he sighed. "I really can't stay? I've got to go away?"

  
  
  


With a sad laugh, she nodded, "According to you, yes." 

He sighed and said, "Maybe I can make another portkey, come back, and just stay here forever. To hell with the future."

  
  
  


"Mmmmm. Probably not," she looked down at her robe, playing with the tie. 

  
  
  


"Well, at least I can say I tried." 

  
  
  


She scooted closer to him on her bed, resting her head on his shoulders. "This evening has been so very nice. You have been an unexpected but oh so pleasurable surprise." 

  
  
  


He looked down at her and in a soft voice asked, "Will you think of me?" 

  
  
  


She looked up at him with a tired but content smile. 

"Not getting more time with you, I think, will be my lifelong sorrow, so, yes, I'll think of you. Will you think of me?" 

  
  


"Merlin! Yes! I wish I knew how to break this spell you have over me. I just want to immediately come back here—ravish your body some more, never leave these rooms." He sighed, and James began to think of the wizarding world and all it had to endure before his time, and, for a moment, he wanted to take her with him. 

Perhaps, he thought, he would do some extensive research on her when he got home. Learn her whole life, bring her to his time. He had a flat and a job. She could live with him. He wouldn't bring this up to her yet, he didn't want to seem overly enamoured after their short time together, but he was certainly looking forward to something when he got back to his time. Regardless of how futile, it temporarily made him feel better.

  
  


He glanced at the clock. 5 am. "We have at least forty-five minutes," and he bent down and kissed her, leaning over her. Pulling her closer to him, he whispered against her lips, "Happy Christmas."

  
  
  


She smiled, "Happy Christmas, to you, too. You really have been the best Christmas present."

  
  
  
  



End file.
